Tales from a dry river bed …

Two weeks ago I stood in a dry stream bed at Castle Eden Dene, wondering at the absence of water yet also conscious that many of the stones that littered the surface had a slipperiness that suggested not only that they had been wet relatively recently, but also that the surface biofilms (which impart this slipperiness) might still be intact.   A first look at a portion of this film under my microscope suggested that this might well be the case: I could certainly see some diatoms, and some green algae cells, but most were very small and that there was also a lot of particles, both inorganic and organic, that made viewing these algae quite difficult.   Since then, I’ve prepared a permanent slide from this material, so I can now take a closer look and get a better idea of what diatoms thrive in a dry stream bed in mid-winter in northern England.

A quick analysis of the sample found 34 species, of which four were abundant (comprising over 60% of the total) and the remainder were relatively infrequent.   The most abundant species was Amphora pediculus, which I’ve written about before, and which was not a surprise, as it is a species that thrives in the hard water that I would have expected in a stream draining a limestone catchment.  The other three common species wereHumidophila contenta, Luticola muticaand Simonsenia delognei, all of which are known to survive in habitats that are not permanently submerged.   These are relatively uncommon in the typical samples that I encounter but when they do occur in large numbers, they are often found together.   It is another facet of the “London Bus” paradigm that I described in the previous post, except this time it is a characteristic assemblage of species from different genera, rather than from a single genus or family.

Castle_Eden_diatoms_Jan19

Some of the diatoms from Castle Eden Burn, January 2019: a. Nitzschia nana; b. – g. Luticola mutica; h. – k. Humidophila contenta.   Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre). 

Diatoms in the genus Humidophilahas changed names twice over the course of my career.   Back in the 1980s, species from this genus, as well as Luticolawere considered to be part of the Navicula which was regarded as a “dump for all bilaterally symmetrical [e.g. boat-shaped] raphid diatoms lacking particularly distinctive features” according to Frank Round, Dick Crawford and David Mann.    They split several groups of species away from Naviculato create new genera, one of which was Luticola.  In other cases, to resurrect old genera that had been subsumed into Naviculain the first half of the 20thcentury.  One of these resurrected genera was Diadesmiswhich differed from “true” Naviculain several respects, not least of which was a tendency to form ribbon-like colonies.   A more recent study suggested that Diadesmis, itself, needed to be split, with several species being moved to yet another new genus, Humidophila.   Unfortunately, the criteria on which this was based are not easily seen with the light microscope.  However, one by-product of this split was that all the species within the genera that are associated with damp, rather than fully-submerged habitats, ended up in the new genus rather than in Diadesmis.   That lends weight to the split, suggesting that there is more to the separation than just minor differences in the details of the cell wall.

The final species that was common in Castle Eden Burn was Simonsenia delognei.   This is another small diatom and, as I could not get good photographs from this sample, I have included photographs from another site to show what it looks like.  It is a very delicate diatom, easily overlooked when scanning a slide, particularly as it usually only occurs in small numbers.  That, again, might be because I usually look at samples from fully-submerged habitats.   Here, it formed about 12 per cent of the total number of valves, which is four times as many as I have previously found.

Simonsenia_delognei.jpg

Simonsenia delogneifrom Ballyfinboy River, Co. Tipperary, August 2014.   Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre).  Photographs: Lydia King.

I’m quite intrigued, now, to see how the algal communities change over the course of the year. Are these diatoms that can tolerate drying ever-presents or will their proportions fluctuate over the course of the year as the stream comes and goes?   And what is it that makes some diatoms cope with these dry periods?   The ability to live out of water is associated with a few genera in particular, so what is it about their genetic make-up that lets them thrive.  What about Amphora pediculusand the other diatoms that I associate with submerged habitats? Am I looking at dormant but viable cells (I did not see many healthy chloroplasts when I made my initial observations) or are these diatom carcasses strewn across an arid desert?    At the risk of sliding into metaphor-overload, does this mean that Humidophila, Luticolaand Simonseniaare the cacti of the diatom world?

References

Lowe, R.L., Kociolek, P., Johannsen, J.R., van de Vijver, B., Lange-Bertalot, H. & Kopalová, K. (2014).  Humidophilagen. nov., a new genus for a group of diatoms (Bacillariophyta) formerly within the genus Diadesmis: species from Hawai’I, including one new species.  Diatom Research29: 351-360.

Round, F.E., Crowford, R.M. & Mann, D.G. (1990).  The Diatoms: Biology and Morphology of the Genera.   Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Advertisements

A twist in the tale …

hamsterley_forest_jan19\

After my sojourn in East Durham, described in the previous post, I have travelled back to the Pennines for this one, crossing the River Wear at Wolsingham before driving up onto the fells and finally dropping down to the woodlands that are Hamsterley Forest.  This is a large man-made plantation, dating from the 1930s and popular for recreation. In January, however, the forest is quiet, and I only have a few mountain bikers and a lone dog walker for company as I peer into the peaty waters of Euden Beck.   This stream rises on the open fells of Hamsterley Common, between Weardale and Teesdale, before flowing through the forest and joining Spurl’s Wood Beck just downstream from where I am standing, to become Hamsterley Beck.  This then joins the Wear a few kilometres downstream from Wolsingham.

eudon_beck_jan19

Euden Beck, just above the forest drive in Hamsterley Forest, January 2019.  The photograph at the top of the post shows a view towards Hamsterley Forest. 

There is a mixture of diatoms growing on the stones here but I am most interested in the genus Fragilaria today.   One of the curiosities of this genus is that we often find several representatives growing at the same site at the same time, reminiscent of the old adage about London buses (“you wait ages, and then three come along at once”).   I’ve written about this before (see “Baffled by the benthos (2)” and “When is a diatom like a London bus?”) and Euden Beck is another good example of this conundrum in practice.

Today, I could see quite a few cells of Fragilaria teneraand smaller numbers ofF. gracilisplus a newly-described species that I will talk more about later in the post.  Fragilaria teneraforms long, needle-like cells, often clustering together to form sea urchin-like masses growing out from either a filamentous alga or particle to which they are attached (see “Food for thought in the River Ehen” for an illustration).  Most of the ones that I saw in my samples from Euden Beck were either single cells or pairs of cells, presumably following a recent division. Note how the second cell from the left in the figure below is not as straight as the others.   This is something that I often see with Fragilaria populations in streams in the northern Pennines, and indicates that there may be heavy metal pollution in the water.  There are a lot of abandoned lead mines in the northern Pennines and, sure enough, when I looked at a large scale map, I found one that I had not previously noticed in the upper part of Euden Beck’s catchment.

fragilaria_tenera.euden_jan19

Live cells of Fragilaria tenera(a. – d.) and F. heatherae from Euden Beck, January 2019.   a., b. and e. are valve views; c. and d. are girdle views.  Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre). 

The next image shows these valve abnormalities even more clearly, with almost all of the cells showing aberrations in their outline.   These images are from an older sample; the curiosity here is that whilst most of the Fragilaria tenera valves were twisted, fewer of the valves of Fragilaria gracilisare twisted, whilst few of the valves of the third Fragilaria species show any abnomality in their outline at all.   This species is very common in northern Pennine streams, and I have often seen distorted valves of this species in streams polluted by mine discharges.  This makes the discrepancy between the outlines of this and Fragilaria tenera in Euden Beck particularly intriguing.

fragilaria_tenera_rt#55

Fragilaria tenera from a sample collected from Euden Beck in June 2012.  Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre).   Photographs: Lydia King.

I say “Fragilaria gracilis” with a modicum of trepidation as a recent study in which I have been involved, suggests that there may well be at least two species.  These are, as far as we can tell, indistinguishable using characteristics that can be seen with the light microscope though we know that they are genetically quite distinct, and both are widespread, turning up not just in the UK but in other parts of Europe too.

The third species, to the best of our knowledge, does not match the description of any other Fragilaria species, and we are in the process of publishing it as a new species, Fragilaria heatherae.   We have found it a number of samples, not just from the UK but also from sites elsewhere in Europe.   These, by comparison with the other two species, show very little distortion at all.   Whilst several authors have noted this phenomenon in the past, the physiological cause is still not understood. My guess is that the metal ions are displacing a metal co-factor in an enzyme that is involved in the process of laying down the silica cell wall.   Fragilaria seems to be particularly susceptible, but this may be because their long needle-like cells show the distortions more clearly than in some genera but, based on the evidence from Euden Beck, there are clearly differences in susceptibility between species.

Once again, I seem to be ending a post having asked more questions than I have answered. That is always frustrating but another way of looking at this is to realise that the frontiers of ecology are only ever a short drive away from where you are now.  It is very nice to cross oceans to visit rain forests and coral reefs, but there are adventures to be had closer to your doorstep.

fragilaria_gracilis_rt#55

Fragilaria gracilis from a sample collected from Euden Beck in June 2012.  Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre).   Photographs: Lydia King.

fragilaria_heatherae_rt#55

Fragilaria heatherae” from a sample collected in Euden Beck in June 2012.  Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre).   Photographs: Lydia King

References

Duong, T.T., Morin, S., Herlory, O. & Feurtet-Mazel, A. (2008). Seasonal effects of cadmium accumulation in periphytic diatom communities of freshwater biofilms.  Aquatic Toxicology90: 19-28.

Falasco, E., Bona, F., Ginepro, M., Hlúbiková, D., Hoffmann, L. & Ector, L. (2009). Morphological abnormalities of diatom silica walls in relation to heavy metal contamination and artificial growth conditions.  Water SA35: 595-606.

McFarland, B.H., Hill, B.H. & Willingham, W.T. (1996). Abnormal Fragilaria spp. (Bacillariophyceae) in Streams Impacted by Mine Drainage. Journal of Freshwater Ecology 12: 141-149.

Castle Eden Dene in January

castle_eden_burn_jan19

The story so far: in 2018 I made bi-monthly visits to the River Wear, my local river and tried to capture, in my posts, the changes in the algae that occurred over the course of 12 months (follow the links in “A year in the life of the River Wear” to learn more).  It was an interesting exercise, partly because last summer’s exceptional weather led to some intriguing changes over the course of the year.   Consequently, as 2019 dawned, I thought I should find a different type of stream within a short drive from my home and try again.  So, bearing in mind that Wolsingham is south and west from where I live, I turned in the opposite direction and drove due east instead, stopping on the edge of the brutal concrete housing estates of Peterlee, a most unprepossessing location for a National Nature Reserve.

My journey has brought me right across the Permian limestone that dominates the eastern Durham landscape. Its escarpment rises up close to my home, and I have written about the algae that live in the ponds at the foot of it (see “A hitchhiker’s guide to algae…”).  On the other side, however, the limestone ends in a series of cliffs overlooking the North Sea and small streams have cut into the limestone to create a series of wooded valleys, or “denes”.   I’ve come to Castle Eden Dene, the largest of these: if you want a cultural reference point, watch the film “Billy Elliott”, set just a few miles further north along the coast, or read Barry Unsworth’s The Quality of Mercy.

We made our way down the footpath into the dene on a crisp and very cold winter morning, past the old yew trees from which the name is derived, and myriad ferns.   A deer bounded across the path ahead and disappeared into some scrub, and then we turned a corner and looked into Castle Eden Burn, which runs along the bottom of the dene.   To my surprise, the stream was dry.   This is a valley that cuts through limestone, so it is common for the stream to be dry in the summer, but I had not expected it to be dry in the middle of winter.  Thinking back, however, I realised that there has not been much rain for some weeks, and this may have meant that the water table, still low, perhaps, after last summer’s dry weather, is too low for the stream to flow.

blunts_burn_jan19

Diatoms and cyanobacterial colonies in Blunt’s Burn, Castle Eden Dene, January 2019.   The top photograph shows diatom growths on bedrock; the lower image shows Phormidium retzii colonies, each about two millimetres across.   The photograph at the top of the post shows a yew tree overhanging Castle Eden Burn. 

A few hundred metres further down the dene, we finally heard the sound of running water where a small tributary stream, Blunt’s Burn, joined the main burn.  Judging from my OS map, it drains a good part of Peterlee so it might not have very high water quality.  It was, however, a stream and it did, as I could see with the naked eye, have some distinct diatom-rich growths.    These, I discovered later, were dominated by the diatoms such as Navicula tripunctataand N. lanceolata which are typical of cold weather conditions (see, for example, “The River Wear in January”).   A closer look showed that the orange-brown diatom growths were, in places, flecked with dark brown spots.  Somehow, I managed to get my cold fingers to manipulate a pair of forceps and pick up a few of these spots for closer examination.

blunts_burn_diatoms

Diatoms from Blunt’s Burn, January 2019: a. Navicula tripunctata; b. N. lanceolata; c.Gyrosigma cf. acuminatum; d. Nitzschiacf. linearis (girdle view); e. N. linearis(valve view).  Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre).

I had a good idea, when I first saw these spots, that they were colonies of a filamentous cyanobacterium and, peering through my microscope a few hours later, once I had warmed myself up, I was relieved to see that I was right.  I picked out a dark patch and teased it apart before putting it onto a slide with a drop of water.  Once I had done this, I could see the tangle of filaments along with a mass of organic and inorganic particles and lots of diatoms.   The filaments themselves were simple chains of cells (a “trichome”) of Phormidium retzii, surrounded by a sheath.   There were also, however, a few cases, where I could see the sheath without the Phormidium trichome, and in some those I could also see diatom cells.

There are some diatoms that make their own mucilage tubes (see “An excuse for a crab sandwich, really …”) but Nitzschia is not one of those most often associated with tube-formation (there are a few exceptions).    On the other hand, there are some references to Nitzschiacells squatting in tubes made by other diatoms.   Some of those who have observed this refer to Nitzschia as a “symbiont” but whether there is any formal arrangement or is just a by-product of Nitzschia’s ability to glide and seek out favourable microhabitats, is not clear.  There are, as far as I can see, no references, to diatoms inhabiting the sheaths of Cyanobacteria, though Brian Whitton tells me he has occasionally seen this too.

We made our way back along the dry bed of Castle Eden Burn.  Many of the rocks here were quite slippery, suggesting that there had been some water flowing along it in the recent past.  That encouraged me to scrub at the top surface of one with my toothbrush and I managed to get a sample that certainly contains diatoms though these were mostly smaller than the ones that I found in Blunt’s Burn, and there was also a lot of mineral matter.   I’ll need to get that sample prepped and a permanent slide prepared before I can report back on just what diatoms thrive in this tough habitat.  Watch this space …

blunts_burn_phormidium

Cyanobacterial filaments from Blunt’s Burn, Co. Durham, January 2019: a. a single trichome of Phormidium retzii; b. and c. empty sheaths colonised by cells of Nitzschia; d. aPhormidiumfilament with a sheath and a trichome but also with epiphytes and adsorbed organic and inorganic matter.  Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre).   

References

Carr, J.M. & Hergenrader, G.L. (2004).  Occurrence of three Nitzschia(Bacillariophyceae) taxa within colonies of tube-forming diatoms. Journal of Phycology23: 62-70.

Houpt, P.M. (1994). Marine tube-dwelling diatoms and their occurrence in the Netherlands. Netherlands Journal of Aquatic Ecology28: 77-84.

Lobban, C.S. (1984). Marine tube-dwelling diatoms of the Pacific coast of North America. I. BerkeleyaHasleaNitzschia, and Navicula sect. Microstigmaticae.  Canadian Journal of Botany63: 1779-1784.

Lobban, C.S. & Mann, D.G. (1987).  The systematics of the tube-dwelling diatom Nitzschia martiana and Nitzschia section Spathulatae. Canadian Journal of Botany.  65: 2396-2402, 

 

Little round green things …

Apatococcus_on_Fence

Nature does not get much more prosaic than this: my garden fence covered with a fine, powdery green coating. For most of the year this is hidden behind the foliage of our apple and willow trees but as autumn gives way to winter, so the bare green slats became visible again.  Last week, staring out of the window whilst completing my previous post, it occurred to me that, in the six years that I have been writing this blog, I have never made the short journey across the grass to look at one of the most common algae in the country.

I scraped a single-sided razor blade across the surface of one of the slats to harvest a small quantity of the damp, powdery film, and put a few specks under my microscope in order to take a closer look.   What this revealed was lots of clumps of small near-spherical green cells.   That, along with an ability to live in terrestrial habitats are about all the natural historian has to go on when trying to name this organism.  My old copy of West and Fritsch suggests Pleurococcus naegelii, adding that “there is probably no other alga about which there has been so much confusion” whilst the latest guide to British algae would call it either Apatococcus lobatus or Desmococcus olivaceum– their descriptions are very similar.   Desmococcus olivaceum has been described as “the commonest green alga in the world”, which is a bold claim.  Certainly, green powdery coatings such as these are found in shaded locations in a great many places but is the singular “alga” really appropriate?  Cells such as these offer so few visual clues that the microscopist is apt to latch onto a phrase such as “one of the commonest terrestrial algae” alongside a description that roughly matches the material, and considers it to be job done.  These groups have also been referred to as “LRGT” (“little round green things”) – the phycological equivalent of the ornithologist’s “little brown jobs”.   Recent molecular studies suggest that there is a lot of diversity within these powdery films, and this is almost certainly going to be very difficult to resolve with traditional methods.  It looks as if we going to struggle with these “LRGT” for the foreseeable future.

The Class Trebouxiphyceae seems to have a particularly large number of LRGT.   Some (such as the one I am describing in this post) are free-living and capable surviving desiccation, but this group also includes many of the algae that unite with fungi to form lichens, whilst others prefer to live in truly aquatic situations.   But it is the fence-dwelling forms that are of interest to me today, and even if I cannot put the exact name onto my powdery film, I can perhaps offer some thoughts on why it thrives where it does.

Apatococcus_lobatum_181218

Cells of Apatococcus lobatum(?) from a garden fence in County Durham.  Scale bar: 10 micrometres (= 1/100thof a millimetre).   The photograph at the top of the post shows the fence in my back garden from which it was collected.

Some of the other terrestrial (or semi-terrestrial) green algae that I’ve described in this blog are endowed with brightly coloured pigments that protect them from the damaging ultra violet rays in sunlight (see “Fake tans in the Yorkshire Dales” and “An encounter with a green alga that is red”).  Apatococcusand Desmococcus, by contrast, do not come with preloaded sunscreens.  They thrive, by contrast, in relatively shaded locations where the gradual accumulation of cells on the fence surface means that the outer cells take the primary ultra violet hit and, in the process, protect those cells underneath.   There is also evidence of Apatococcus producing lots of stress compounds.  These belong to a class of compounds call “polyols” – complicated alcohols.  A lifestyle that involves single cells sitting on a damp fence indefinitely might seem like an evolutionary dead end.   However,  they have the last laugh as, unlike us, they are genetically adapted to produce their own booze when the going gets tough.

A further adaptation that has been observed is that the cells can switch between producing their own simple sugars via photosynthesis, and absorbing sugars and other organic compounds directly, a strategy known as “mixotrophy”.   Walls and fences are challenging habitats for any organism so having the ability to mop up any spare fuel (leaking down from one of those outermost cells that took one for the team, perhaps?) might give the organism a slight competitive advantage over time.

Back when I was doing my Fine Art degree, I was using algae to explore the boundaries between abstraction and representational art.  My thesis was that an image of an alga could be either representational or abstract depending on how much prior knowledge the viewer brought to the image.   I used the Apatococcus (or is it Desmococcus) from my garden fence as subject matter for this exploration, creating a sextych (honestly, that’s the word for a painting on six panels) that juxtaposed the minimal outline of fence panels with microscopic views of the alga.  The three fence panels offer the unprepossessing view that most people will walk past for their entire life without a thought, whilst the microscopic views give an insight into the hidden world even though the arrangement of shapes and colours will not match any of the schemata lodged in the memories and experiences of most of the viewers (see “Abstracting from reality …”).

Apatococcus

Apatococcus. 2008 50 x 130 cm.  Acrylic and photomicrograph on canvas.

References

Gustavs, L., Schumann, R., Karstens, U. & Lorenz, M. (2016).  Mixotrophy in the terrestrial green alga Apatococcus lobatus(Trebouxiphyceae, Chlorophyta).  Journal of Phycology52: 311-314.

Laundon, J.R. (1985). Desmococcus olivaceus– the name of the common subaerial green alga.   Taxon 34: 671-672.

Lemieux, C., Otis, C. & Turmel, M. (2014).  Chloroplast phylogenomic analysis resolves deep-level relationships within the green algal class Trebouxiphyceae.  BMC Evolutionary Biology14: 211.

 

The River Wear in November

Wear_Wolsingham_181119

I was back at the River Wear last week for my final visit of the year.   The heatwave that dominated the summer seems like an aeon ago as I plunged my arm into the cold water to find some stones and take some photographs.  I’m curious to see what is here, though.   The river has surprised me several times already this year.  Has it reverted to type as the British climate has regained a semblance of normality, or will the changes that we saw in the summer (see “Summertime blues …” and “Talking about the weather …”) still have consequences for the algae growing on the river bed?

The river bed itself had many patches of green filamentous algae which, on closer examination, turned out to be my old friend Ulothrix zonata, an alga that is common in these parts and which has a distinct preference for early spring conditions (see “Bollihope Bavakakra” and references therein).   A closer look showed two types of filament present: the normal vegetative ones with a single chloroplast encircling the cell but also some where the cell contents have divided to produce zoospores which are released and which, if they land on a suitable surface, will produce new vegetative filaments.   The “parent” filaments, themselves, are produced as zygotes, produced back in the spring, germinate.  The zygotes are the product of sexual reproduction, triggered by lengthening days (see reference in earlier post) and are dormant through the summer, only germinating once day length shortens and temperatures start falling.

Wear_Wolsingham_bed_Nov18

The river bed of the River Wear at Wolsingham, November 2018, showing conspicuous growths of Ulothrix zonata.

Ulothrix_zonata_Nov18

Magnified views of Ulothrix zonatafilaments from the River Wear at Wolsingham.  The upper image shows a vegetative filament and the lower image shows filaments where the cell contents have divided up prior to the release of zoospores.  Scale bar: 20 micrometres (= 1/50thof a millimetre).

The areas between the patches of Ulothrix zonatawere covered with a thick film, composed primarily of diatoms, in contrast to the situation on my last two visits when non-filamentous green algae predominated.  This time, it was Achnanthidium minutissimumdominated my count (about 70% of cells) although, because they are relatively small, they comprised just under half of the total volume of algae present.   Other diatoms bumped this up to about 70 per cent of the total volume, with motile cells of Navicula and Nitzschia, which were so abundant at the start of the year, beginning to appear in numbers again.   The green cells that dominated my counts in July and September now only constitute about five per cent of the total.   The River Wear, in other words, has shaken off the effects of the summer, just as a healthy human gets over a winter cold, and is now back to its old self.

Wolsingham_181119_#1

A view down my microscope whilst examining samples from the River Wear at Wolsingham showing the predominance of Achnanthidium minutissimum with (on the right-hand side) a filament of a narrow Ulothrix (not U. zonata).  

More green algae from the River Wear

Having discussed some of the recent name changes in green algae in the previous post, I thought that I would continue this theme using some of the other taxa that I found in the samples I collected from the River Wear a couple of weeks ago.   The plate below shows some specimens that, 20 years ago, I would not have hesitated to call Scenedesmus, characterised by coenobia of either four cells or a multiple of four cells arranged in a row.   Over 200 species, and 1200 varieties and forms have been recognised although there were also concerns that many of these so-called “species” were, in fact, variants induced by environmental conditions.  A further problem is that Scenedesmus and relatives do not have any means of sexual reproduction.  This means that any mutation that occurs and which does not have strong negative effects on the organism will be propagated rather than lost through genetic processes.  Working out what differences are really meaningful is always a challenge, especially when dealing with such tiny organisms.

Scenedesmus and Desmodemus species from the River Wear, Wolsingham, September 2018.  a. and b. Scenedesmus cf ellipticus; c. Desmodesmus communis.   Scale bar: 20 micrometres (= 1/50th of a millimetre).

The onset of the molecular era shed some new light onto these problems but, in the process, recognised differences within the genus itself that necessitated it being split into three, two of which are on the plate below.  Scenedesmus, in this modern sense, has cells with obtuse (rounded) apices and mucilage surrounding the cells whilst Desmodesmus has distinct spines at the apices of marginal cells and, sometimes, shorter ones elsewhere too.   In addition to these there is Acutodesmus, which is similar to Scenedesmus (i.e. without spines) but whose cells have more pointed (“acute”) ends and which does not have any surrounding mucilage.   A further genus, Pectinodesmus, has been split away from Acutodesmus on the basis of molecular studies, although there do not seem to be any features obvious under the light microscope which can differentiate these.

The genera Ankistrodesmus and Monoraphidium present a similar situation.  In the past, these long needle- or spindle-shaped cells would all have been considered to be Ankistrodesmus.   Some formed small bundles whilst others grew singly and this, along with a difference in their reproductive behaviour, was regarded as reason enough for splitting them into two separate genera.   Both were present in the Wear this summer, but only Monoraphidium presented itself to me in a manner that could be photographed.  Two species are shown in the plate below.   Recent molecular studies seem to not just support this division but also suggest that each of these could, potentially, be divided into two new genera, so we’ll have to watch out for yet more changes to come.

Monoraphidium species from the River Wear, Wolsingham, September 2018.  a. and b.: M. griffthii; c. M. arcuatum.  Scale bar: 20 micrometres (= 1/50th of a millimetre).

The final illustration that I managed to obtain is of another common coenobium-forming alga, Coelastrum microporum.   Though the three-dimensional form makes it a little harder to see, cell numbers, as for Pediastrum, Scenedesmus and Desmodesmus, are multiples of four.  I apologise if the picture is slightly out of focus, but it is a struggle to use high magnification optics on samples such as these.  The oil that sits between the lens and the coverslip conveys the slight pressure from fine focus adjustments directly to the sample, meaning that the cells move every time I try to get a crisper view.  That means it is impossible to use my usual “stacking” software.   The answer is to use an inverted microscope so that the lens was beneath the sample.  However, I do this type of work so rarely that the investment would not be worthwhile.

That’s enough for now.   I’m off on holiday for a couple of weeks, so the next post may be from Portugal and perhaps I will also find time to sample the River Duoro as well as the products of the vineyards in it’s catchment…

Coelastrum microporum from the River Wear,Wolsingam, Septmber 2018.  Scale bar: 20 micrometres (= 1/50th of a millimetre).

References

An, S.S., Friedl, T. & Hegewald, E. (2008).  Phylogenetic relationships of Scenedesmus and Scenedesmus-like coccoid green algae as inferred from ITS-2 rDNA sequence comparisons.   Plant Biology 1: 418-428.

Hegewald, E., Wolf, M., Keller, A., Friedl, T. & Krienitz, T. (2010).  ITS2 sequence-structure phylogeny in the Scenedesmaceae with special reference to Coelastrum (Chlorophyta, Chlorophyceae), including the new genera Comasiella and Pectinodesmus.   Phycologia 49: 325-355.

Krienitz, L. & Bock, C. (2012).  Present state of the systematics of planktonic coccoid green algae of inland waters.   Hydrobiologia 698: 295-326.

Krienitz, L., Bock, C., Nozaki, H. & Wolf, M. (2011).   SSU rRNA gene phylogeny of morphospecies affiliated to the bioassay alga “Selanastrum capricornutum” recovered the polyphyletic origin of crescent-shaped Chlorophyta.  Journal of Phycology 47: 880-893.

Trainor, F.R. & Egan, P.F. (1991).  Discovering the various ecomorphs of Scenedesmus: the end of a taxonomic era.   Archiv für Protistenkunde 139: 125-132.

A hitchhiker’s guide to algae …

One of the recurring themes of this blog is the hidden delights of natural history for anyone prepared to take a closer look at unprepossessing locations, so it is appropriate that we have found some quite rich habitats within walking distance of our home in County Durham.   I’ve written before about visits to Crowtrees, a local nature reserve (see “More pleasures in my own backyard” and “Natural lenses”) and Heather is also writing a series of posts about the ever-changing flora of this small vale at the foot of the Permian limestone escarpment (see “Crowtrees LNR July 2018 part 2: gentians to grasses” for the most recent and links back to previous ones).   I visited again last week, taking Brian Whitton along for company.

His interest was the red alga Chroothece ricteriana, which I described in one of my earlier posts about Crowtrees but we did not find it on this particular visit.   Instead, my eye was drawn to soft clouds of green filaments that floated just above the bed of the pond.   When I looked closely under my microscope, I saw that these were thin filaments of Oedogonium.  Typically, these had no reproductive organs, so cannot be named (see “Love and sex in a tufa-forming stream” for a rare exception), but all showed characteristic “cap cells” (see lower illustration).

Growths of Oedogonium in Crowtrees pond, August 2018.   The frame width is about 30 centimetres.   The photograph at the top of the post shows Brian Whitton searching for algae during our visit.

The diatom Achnanthidium minutissimum was growing on small stalks attached to the Oedogonium filaments, often alone but also in pairs and stacks of four, as the diatom cells divided and re-divided.  Oedogonium is a rougher alga to the touch than filamentous genera such as Draparnaldia, Stigeoclonium and Spirogyra, and often carries epiphytes, and I presume the lack of mucilage is a factor in this.   Achnanthidium minutissimum is a diatom that is very common on the upper surface of submerged stones in both lakes and rivers, but it is not fussy and I often see it as an epiphyte if conditions are right.  In this case, I suspect that the very hard water of Crowtrees Pond is a factor: calcium carbonate is constantly being precipitated from the water to create a thin layer of “marl” (see photo in “Pleasures in my own backyard”).   This makes life difficult for a tiny diatom that cannot move, so hitch-hiking a ride on the back of a filamentous alga that floats about the lake bottom makes a lot more sense.

Oedogonium filaments with epiphytic Achnanthidium minutissimum, from Crowtrees pond, August 2018.  Scale bar: 20 micrometres (= 1/50th of a millimetre).  

Oedogonium is an adaptable genus.  It is also common in the River Ehen (soft water, low nutrients) and I also find it in lowland polluted rivers too.  Being able to name the species would, I am sure, help us to better understand the ecology but this is, as I have already mentioned, problematic (see “The perplexing case of the celibate alga”).   However, in each of the cases I’ve mentioned, the epiphytes are different (Achnanthidium minutissimum here, Tabellaria flocculosa and Fragilaria species in the Ehen, Rhoicosphenia and Cocconeis placentula in enriched lowland rivers) and I suspect that these might offer an easier way to interpret the habitat than the filaments themselves, at least until someone finds a stress-free way of naming them.